Harry looked at his fiancée while she was talking of her success, and he could not but realise that the recent days had changed her greatly. She had won dignity, he thought, and a new outlook upon life, which could not be a transient influence. There was in her manner towards him a sense of superiority, which the inferior intellect resented; while her good-natured badinage upon his "holiday" suggested anew his inability to play any serious part in the grave affairs which now occupied her. But, beyond this, was her utter indifference to his attempts to make her jealous, and he knew that she hardly listened to him when he spoke of Maryska and the theatre.
"She wants to be a dancer! Oh! every child wants to be that some time or other. Were you not going to be an engine-driver yourself when you were seven? You told me so."
"Yes, but she's a jolly lot more than seven, and if you don't look out, she'll catch and bowl the three of you."
"My dear Harry, that is nonsense. Are you going skating to-night?"
"Yes, if you are coming."
"I can't. Mr. Trevelle is going to dine with us."
"What! hasn't he done talking yet? Someone ought to take away the key. That man is wound up!"
"At any rate, he is the life and soul of things. He's got nearly twenty thousand pounds for us in five days."
"I'll have to borrow a monkey of him. Is your tame millionaire coming also? They say in the papers that he's been sent for by the Cabinet! Is he going to sell some of his wheat cheap, or what?"
Gabrielle froze perceptibly.